


Long Lost Brother

by songofsunset



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Identity Reveal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 14:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15196967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofsunset/pseuds/songofsunset
Summary: Grantaire follows Enjolras into a shitty basement, and finds someone he doesn't expect.





	Long Lost Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fulldaysdrive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulldaysdrive/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Under My Wings You Will Find Refuge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/836606) by [Fiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiver/pseuds/Fiver). 



> How is Gabe alive? Why is he here? WHO KNOWS, NOT ME!!!! Just go with it lol
> 
> The lovely fic [Under My Wings You Will Find Refuge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/836606/chapters/1593488) just updated (!!!! also, heads up there's a spoiler or two for Ch 14 in here) and I was screaming with friends and one was all "meanwhile I long for a noncanon sidefic where gabriel drops in on R like HEY BRO WHAT'S UP" and then linked me to a [couple](http://fivie.tumblr.com/post/103155518145/fjordd-replied-to-your-post-sometimes-i-have) [posts](http://fivie.tumblr.com/post/66813773444/gabriel-and-grantaire-are-bffs-grantaire-spent-a) and I drabbled, and then I ficced, and here we are lololol

They've cornered the ghouls in a basement, the grungy sort these hunts always seem to end up in. And Grantaire isn't thrilled about Enjolras grunging it up after some flesh-hungry creatures, but if they can get this handled now maybe Grantaire can drag Enjolras out around the local town for some sunlight and culture. They'd passed an art museum, Grantaire thinks, and maybe a couple of parks that looked promising.

But for now they're down here in a basement that seems to have been strategically designed to accumulate as much muck and dust as possible, trying to find the handful of ghouls before the ghouls can find them.

Only, when Grantaire and Enjolras walk into the half-finished remnants of a bedroom at the far side of the basement, they find that someone else had found the ghouls first.

The ghouls are a scorched mess on the floor, decapitation having become irrelevant due to sheer bodily disintegration. 

A man is standing in the middle of them, ash coating his nice leather shoes, face shadowed and a silver sword glimmering in his hand, identical to the one Enjolras hefts in front of him. Enjolras cuts off a breath and the man turns up to face them, shadows around him flaring into the unmistakable shape of...... wings.

Grantaire has not seen another angel for centuries, longer, not since he ran away.

So if, for just a moment, in a habit so old and ingrained that Grantaire had almost forgotten he was suppressing it, Grantaire flares his grace in response, well. Maybe Grantaire is an idiot. Maybe there was no helping it. Maybe it happened, and Graintaire is just going to have to fucking deal with it.

The man freezes, his wings melting away, the threat on his face morphing into an almost comical level of shock, and Enjolras pushes himself in front of Grantaire as though he could provide some level of protection. Grantaire appreciates the effort, and also wishes he could just grab Enjolras and fly them both far far away, if it wouldn't give away to Enjolras that Grantaire isn't human, if this angel wouldn't just follow them both wherever they went. Well, Enjolras at least has Grantiare's blade in his hand, so maybe he wouldn't be useless.

And of course, that's when the man squints right at Graintaire, takes half a step forward, making Enjolras step back firmly against Grantaire, the lines of his shoulders tense and firm against Graintaire's chest as Grantaire tries to pay attention to the situation at hand.

"Rachmiel?" the man asks, and Grantaire's entire body goes cold at the name he'd thrown away so long ago. And that's when Grantaire recognizes him.

Gabriel, of all the fucking angels to run into.

Gabriel, archangel of heaven, leader of the armies, conduit to God, beloved of the angels.

Gabriel, who had sung with him in heaven's chorus, who had smiled at him as they watched the oceans form, who had helped him prank the angels in the garrison, who had patted him on the metaphysical equivalent of his arm and told him he was doing a good job.

Here. In this shitty fucking basement. With Grantaire. ...And with Enjolras.

Grantaire seriously considers shrinking himself down to nothing, seeing if any pins nearby could use some angelic dancing or something- But that would leave Gabriel alone with Enjolras and no. Just no.

Maybe he can just-

"Bro!" crows Gabriel, grinning, "It is you! I thought you'd fucking died, you fucker!"

Maybe Grantaire can just pretend this is his long-lost but very human brother, that their swords are a family tradition, how weird to have run into him on a hunt, haha, what a coincidence- Gabriel flies right past Enjolras and claps Grantaire on the shoulder, and Grantaire wants to lean into the touch but he doesn't know what Gabriel wants, doesn't know what Enjolras is figuring out, doesn't-

"Hanging out with a human? R, you kinky bastard you, how the fuck have you been."

Enjolras jumps, whirls, points the sword at Gabe's throat, soul flaring with fear and righteous anger. "What the fuck are you."

"Oh?" Gabriel says, and flies Grantaire with him to the other side of the room in an instant of disembodied rushing. Enjolras whirls again, sword held in front of him, eyes on Grantaire, who is held with one of Gabriel's arms over his shoulders. Gabriel cackles. "You've given him your sword, bro? I know you move fast, but I figured you for more of a third century kind of dude. I hope you're at least sharing your OTHER sword with him, if you know what I-"

"GABE," Grantaire hisses through gritted teeth. "Shut the fuck-"

"I'm wounded!" Gabe says, clutching his chest dramatically. "You WOUND me-"

"R." Enjolras says, far too calmly. "You know this man?"

Grantaire stares at Enjolras for a moment, feeling the arm draped over his shoulders, feeling the grace contained within... then looks away.

Enjolras's face hardens, but Gabriel laughs.

"Know him? Oh, kiddo, R and I go way back. Waaaaay way back." Gabriel grins, and reaches up to give Grantaire a little noogie. "I've said it once and I'll say it again- once you watch the evolution of multi-cellular life with someone, you're bros for eternity"

Enjolras's face is doing a thing like it's trying to convey twelve different emotions at once, and can't decide how to proceed. His soul flickers with confusion.

Grantaire's face is burning. He briefly considers letting himself actually catch on fire, but decides the collateral damage wouldn't be worth it. He likes this coat. He likes Enjolras. He doesn't know what the fuck is up with Gabriel quite yet... but the rest of this basement can perish in a fiery inferno for all he cares.

Enjolras finally gives in and just frowns. "You have the same sword I do. The same as Grantaire."

Gabriel grins like this is the best think he's ever heard. "Is that what he goes by these days? You bet your ass I do."

"I didn't know there were more."

"Oh, it's not like they're COMMON, especially not recently, don't you worry your pretty little head about that. No, these swords are strickly one per customer."

"Gabe," Grantaire hisses, "Please."

But Gabriel charges right on, twirling his own sword. "I mean, I don't know if I would let any grubby little mortal get their hands all over a physical manifestation of my grace, but R here has always had.... Unique taste." He gives Grantaire a little shake. "You do you, little bro, and whatever random humans you feel like, or whatever!"

And Enjolras is staring at Grantaire again, but this time his face is still, and his soul is pulsing with doubt and betrayal. And protective rage.

"Okay. Okay, whoever the hell you are, I'm going to kill you, and then... Grantaire?"

Grantaire swallows, seeing Gabriel's eyebrows go up with amusement. "Yes?"

"We need to talk."

"Uh," says Grantaire, acutely aware of Gabriel's arm around him, how few of his brothers are left. "Could we just skip to the talking part, maybe?"

"Oh, not on my account," says Gabriel, grinning, "I wanna see what this kid has in him, if you're so fond of him. He's got spunk, I'll give him that."

"He also has my sword." Grantaire says. "He could actually hurt you, you massive dick."

Gabriel grins just a little wider, showing just a few too many teeth. "I'm a fucking archangel. I'd like to see him try."

Enjolras blinks.

Grantaire cringes.

"Angels aren't real?" Grantaire tries, and Enjolras levels him with a stare so dry it could start a forest fire and burn half of Europe down. Grantaire almost wishes it would, just so they could postpone this conversation a little longer.

"Well, it's been real!" Gabriel says, clearly filled with glee at making Grantaire's life miserable. "But I think it's time for me to leave so you two idiots can make out or whatever!" He gives Grantaire one last noogie, winks at Enjolras, finger guns at them both. "Don't be a stranger!"

And then he is gone, and Grantaire and Enjolras are alone in a shitty, dusty, ghoul-scorched basement.

Enjolras lowers the sword in front of him, staring at Grantaire with emotions Grantaire desperately doesn't want to parse.

"Your... brother?" Enjolras asks.

Grantaire looks away, feeling like his throat has seized up in all this dust, but he nods anyways. Enjolras deserves to know.

"......Gabriel?"

Grantaire shrugs.

"An Archangel?"

Grantaire nods.

"And that makes you..." Enjolras trails off, as though he can't figure out what he needs to ask, as though he doesn't know if he wants to hear the answer.

Grantaire looks back up at Enjolras. "Your friend." Grantaire manages, seeing Enolras's soul is whirl with fear and worry. "I've been your friend this whole time, I swear."

Enjolras lowers Grantaire's blade, finally. Looks down at it, then up at Grantaire.

"Let's... talk." Enjolras says. "Let's go to one of those parks, up in the city and. There are things. Questions. We should... yeah." 

Grantaire breathes in the dust of the basement, the faint ozone of Gabriel's departure, the ash of the creatures they'd come down here to find, moments ago, a lifetime ago.

"Okay," he says, reaching into the depths of his strength, his bravery, his love for this brilliant and beautiful man in front of him. "Let's do that."


End file.
